Playing at Chance
by thebaddestwolf
Summary: The Doctor lets Rose choose the card game for once, but soon they both realize another game they've been playing at for quite some time is reaching its apex. Rated M for the last chapter.
1. Chapter 1

***Author's note: I'm a non-fiction writer by trade, but this is my FIRST EVER fictional piece. I'm having so much fun writing it, but would love any and all constructive comments. Thanks and hope you enjoy! It'll get smuttier, promise.***

Rose pursed her lips together trying not to smile as he slowly wrapped his head around the rules she'd just explained. Of course, she realized he was pretending to catch on slowly in order to prove a point. If he could instantaneously understand the most complex thermos in quantum physics then he surely could grasp the rules of an Earth card game. But being the Time Lord that he is, he had to let her know that he found her suggestion so ridiculous - _so ridiculous_ - that even he might not grasp the concept. Her eyes ached from holding back the roll he so deserved.

"So you shuffle the deck and deal the cards evenly between us?"

"Yes."

"But we can't look at our cards or put them in any logical order?"

"Nope"

"So we just hold the cards blindly in a pile and then we count to three?"

"Yeah."

"And we both yell 'shoot!' and each put a random card down?"

"Mmhmm."

"And whoever has the higher card wins the round?"

"Now you're getting it."

"And whoever ultimately winds up with all of the cards wins the game?"

"Bingo!"

Rose literally had to bite her tongue to keep it from peeking out the side of her mouth in a cheeky smile. With each question he asked, his voice grew more incredulous and she grew more thrilled. In her nearly two years traveling with the Doctor in the TARDIS Rose had played her fair share of alien card games. While the deck of cards seemed to be universal among most planets - the same diamonds, spades, clovers, and hearts - the rules were always overly complicated and unfamiliar, resulting in the Doctor winning every. single. game.

And under TARDIS rules, the loser had to do the winner's bidding for the next hour. Over the years, this had resulted in Rose devoting many hours to doing things like organizing the Doctor's trainer collection, polishing his favorite bits of the console, and helping him experiment with different types of back combing. She didn't mind it necessarily - especially the part where she got to run her fingers through his hair - but she couldn't help but have contempt for his growing smugness. Whenever he asked her to play a new game from some planet she never heard of, she assumed he merely wanted to have her at his mercy for the ensuing hour.

But not this time. Finally, _finally_, the Doctor had allowed Rose to choose the game.

"And this is called War?" His eyebrows were raised so high at this point she wondered if they would soon fly off his head. "But this is completely a game of chance. What has that got to do with war?"

"That sounds like a great philosophical discussion we can have - _after_ I school your Time Lord behind in War," Rose said, as her tongue broke free and sneaked out on the right side of her smile.

_My she is clever,_ he thought as his eyes drifted down to the corner of her lips where she quickly retracted her tongue. He felt a hint of concern that she believed her only way to beat him at a game was via chance and made a mental note to make sure she became more confident in her intellectual prowess later. But for now, he could see that she was in a taunting mood and the thought of her winning a game excited him more than he was ready to admit.

* * *

They sat kitty-corner at the square wooden table in the TARDIS kitchen. Rose was always fond of the table - a homey touch in a spaceship that was otherwise made of metallic-like alien fibers. She ran her fingers over the grain as the Doctor dealed out the cards, which he had insisted on doing. Looking up, Rose realized that his eyes were not on the task at hand but rather on _her hand._ Watching him, she traced a knot in the wood that ran diagonally across the table, in his direction. His card sorting never slowed, nor did a card land out of place, but his eyes followed her fingers as they drew patterns on the tabletop.

His mind drifted to the times Rose traced circles on his palm with her thumb when they held hands, the times her fingers lightly dragged down from his neck to his back when they hugged, and that one glorious time when she ran her hands through his hair, pretending to be grumpy, but clearly as delighted as he was as evidenced by the ever-present tongue at the corner of her mouth. He had reveled in the closeness of her, her chest at eye level as he sat on a chair in front of her bathroom mirror while she gelled and combed his hair in a number of ways. He loved the sensation of her fingers as they raked along his skull, her stomach leaning into his shoulder and her breasts grazing his ear as she stood on tiptoes to gain a better vantage point. How he remained seated in that moment, with his hands tactfully arranged on his lap, he still didn't know. He shuddered at the memory and chuckled to himself - now _that_ had been his best post-win hour yet.

"I hope you're not imagining yourself winning just yet,' she scolded at the sound of his laugh, jolting him out of his memory and into the realization that she had been watching him watching her.

"I'm just contemplating which bit the TARDIS would like polished next," he grinned, recovering quickly.

She side-eyed him, gathering up her cards. The tension between Rose and the Doctor - a tension that had existed since the moment his previous form took her hand and yelled "run!" - had become more tangible in recent months. Hugs lingered longer, hands caressed more sensually, looks exchanged more intensely. And yet, it was as if there were a line in the sand that both were hesitant to cross. Because if they crossed it who knows what would happen, and neither knew if they were quite willing to chance it. And weren't they happy as they were, traveling amongst the stars with each other's hand to hold?

"Okay, here we go, are you ready?" Rose asked leaning forward in her chair with excitement, her hand poised over the card at the top of her pile. "One, two, three, shoot!"

She flipped over a Jack (a card that always made her smile, thinking of the Captain) and the Doctor revealed a 2. Rose smiled and her tongue protruded between her teeth as far as it allowed - this game was certainly off to a good start.

* * *

Forty five minutes later and Rose realized she had forgotten how long this game could go on for, especially with just two players.

The Doctor sighed, growing frustrated, and slouched in his chair extending his long legs under the table. They brushed against Rose's and there they stayed, both enjoying the physical confirmation of the other's presence, even if only through their calves behind fabric. Rose slowly moved her leg back and forth, pretending to be lost in thought while shuffling her slightly larger pile of cards, but all the while her mind was on the the muscles she could feel beneath the bottom part of her jeans and his trousers.

The annoyance the Doctor was feeling at this drawn out and frankly quite boring human card game instantly morphed into another feeling all together when her leg first moved against his. A flash of warmth spread through him and he scrutinized her face, inwardly laughing at her attempt at aloofness. Now this was a game he could play and win. He began to remove his suit jacket and Rose suddenly snapped into alertness, her head turning toward him instinctively. He tossed the jacket on the back of the empty chair next to him and stretched luxuriously with a groan, throwing his head back and closing his eyes so that Rose could take it all in without feeling self-conscious.

When he heard the sharp - albeit faint - intake of air next to him he knew he had achieved the desired effect. Rose couldn't help it. Her mouth went slightly slack at the sight of his biceps straining as he stretched his arms upward and then from one side to the other, revealing his pectoral muscles beneath the tight-fitting gray tee. With his head tilted back, she noticed the cut of his jawline and the dark covering of stubble that was a result of two days without shaving - something new he was trying out, he had told her. She loved the look on him and had been yearning to run her hands over his face, feeling the roughness on her skin. It was at this point Rose realized he was teasing her. The stretch had lasted much longer than his normal neck-rolls or shoulder rotations. He wanted her to leer.

Feeling enough time had passed, the Time Lord opened his eyes to meet Rose's darkening gaze and rested his arms back on the table.

"Can't we just call it a draw, Rose?" he moaned. "I'll even forfeit and do whatever you say for an hour, if that's all you're after. So long as I don't have to fight another inane battle of chance with my strategy-less suited soldiers."

Rose was tired of playing too, and now she had other things on her mind, but she wasn't going to let him get out of it that easy. She crossed her arms and leaned forward on the table, purposefully pushing her breasts together for better viewing in her deep-V-neck tee-shirt. She saw him steal the quickest of glances and sneered slightly.

"Oh no mister, you're not getting out of this that easy!" she said, looking at him with mockingly furrowed brows. "But don't worry, I've got something in my room that will make things much more interesting. Back in a tick!"

And she was out of her chair, strutting across the kitchen toward the hallway that led to her bedroom, making sure to switch her hips more than usual. She could feel his eyes on her back as she briskly walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

***Author's note: I have no will power and am publishing this less than 24 hours after Chapter 1. xD Hope you like how Rose spices things up and how the Doctor, in turn, rises to the occasion.***

Rose returned two minutes and 42 seconds later (he counted) practically skipping, with a medium-sized brown paper bag in one hand. The Doctor had an inkling of what was inside when he heard the clinking of glass on glass and suppressed a smile.

The blonde couldn't help but giggle as she withdrew a six-pack of Magners ciders. The Doctor looked warily at the bottles.

"Where did you get those?" he asked, partly pretending to be scandalized and partly actually feeling affronted that Rose sneaked alcohol on the TARDIS without him knowing.

"Picked them up last time we popped home to visit mum," she chirped, clearly pleased with herself. "Figured they might come in handy the next time we wind up in orbit around a sun for days on end while the TARDIS re-calibrates."

"So are we to drown our sorrows of this awful game with fermented apple juice?" he asked.

"Don't be daft," she laughed. "Every time you lose a hand, you take a drink. It will up the ante."

"Em, Rose," he said quietly, not wanting to disappoint her. "Physiologically, my body doesn't react the same way to alcohol that a human's does. It would take 15 bottles of cider before I would even feel buzzed."

She waggled her eyebrows at him in a distinctly Doctor-like manner.

"Oi, the cider is for me," she said as she reached back into the bag and pulled out a handle of top-shelf tequila. Placing the bottle on the table, she reached into the bag for a third time while taking in the astonished look on the Doctor's face. "Even got you a few limes," she laughed, revealing three of the spherical green fruit.

The Doctor shook his head and laughed loudly, raising his hands up to rest behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. Rose swallowed. Those biceps again.

"Alright, Rose Tyler," he said, giving her a toothy grin. "You're on."

* * *

The Doctor actually managed to find a shot glass in one of the many kitchen drawers. Rose sliced the limes into quarters and placed them in a bowl, humming a traditional Earth ballad to herself. Walking the bowl to the Doctor's place at the table, she stuck her left index finger in her mouth, sucking her cheeks in as she reacted to the sourness of the fruit's juice.

"My friend Shireen eats the lime wedges in bars, rinds and all," Rose said. Lost in the memory she stuck her middle finger in her mouth next. "I love their flavor and the sourness but I could never do that!"

The Doctor barely heard her, having succumb to tunnel vision that zeroed in on her mouth, which now surrounded the tip of her thumb. Having sucked the last remnants of the lime juice off her skin she released it, making a soft popping sound. The Doctor fought the inclination to dive his hand into the bowl of lime wedges and offer his fingers to her, hoping for the same treatment.

_This is wildly unfair,_ he thought. _She's not even doing this on purpose and I'm practically drooling! Focus, Time Lord. _

Still leaning back in his chair he gazed at her, rubbing the inside of his palm along his jaw and its new stubble, which he had noticed her eying earlier. He then ran his hand up through his hair, making it even more unkempt than usual, hoping to evoke Rose's memories of that certain day. Keeping his eyes on Rose, who seemed in a trace standing behind her chair, he unscrewed the tequila bottle and filled the shot glass to the brim without spilling a drop.

"Bottoms up," he said, raising his eyebrows and his glass. "First one's on me." He downed the shot smoothly, never taking his eyes off her, and slowly reached for a lime. He placed the fleshy part of the fruit into his mouth, bit down and sucked, all while looking into Rose's eyes. She felt a shiver go up her spine and wondered how he could be so gorgeous and infuriating at the same time. Only he would find a way to insert strategy into a game where there is none. But then again, this wasn't really about cards anymore.

Shaking her head lightly, she took her seat and opened her first bottle of cider. Taking a long draw, she kicked off her trainers, slouched in her chair, and placed her left foot in his lap. He flinched a bit in surprise and she moved the bottle from her mouth to let out a giggle before taking another few healthy gulps.

Hoping his flush wasn't visible, the Time Lord picked up his pile of cards. "One, two, three, shoot!"

* * *

They hadn't made it through many hands before Rose felt that familiar warmth growing in her chest. The alcohol was just starting to take effect, making her feel more optimistic and mischievous. She fidgeted in her seat and her foot slid from its spot atop his knee down to the inside of his thigh. She glanced at him slyly, daring him to move it. And he did. He grabbed her foot firmly with one hand and her brow immediately furrowed, her mouth coming into a pout. Had she pushed this too far, she wondered.

While part of her mind worried that she may have upset him, most of her brain was outraged by the rejection. Who was he - the man who enjoyed watching her organize his Chuck Taylors on all fours, who smirked when she worked up a sweat polishing his TARDIS, who leaned into her while failing to cover a hard-on when she was styling his hair, and who, only moments ago, was practically stripping layers of clothing in order to showcase his rippling Time Lordy muscles - who was _he_ to deny her _this_.

Until she met the Doctor, Rose wasn't used to dealing with sexual frustration. She'd had Mickey and, before him, a few other guys throughout the years with never much of a gap in between. She had been willing to sacrifice that aspect of her life for adventures with the Doctor, but as the feelings and tension mounted between them she had become increasingly on edge. Recently, it seemed as though he was egging her on, teasing her to the point of distraction while never letting on if it was anything but innocent. But tonight the charade was up. It was clear that he knew what he was doing to her. So how DARE he have the AUDACITY to REMOVE her fo...

With one hand still firmly holding her foot at the heel, he brought his other hand up and grabbed her narrow arch. He began to move his thumb in slow circles, kneading the soft sole of her foot, and watched her eyes flutter closed just for a moment. She felt her anger melt away and the warmness that had been pooling in her chest drifted lower. As he dragged his thumb along her skin she marveled at how he could make her feel like this by merely touching one digit to such a utilitarian part of her body. _It was just a foot!_ she told herself, involuntarily imagining his thumb drumming the same rhythm on other bits of her.

Clearing her throat, she reached again for her pile of cards - they were about even again - and counted. "One, two, three, shoot."

* * *

The Doctor lost three hands in a row and the bowl of lime wedges was halfway empty. He tried not to let on to Rose, but he could feel the alcohol coursing through his veins. _I'm beginning to understand why humans are constantly filling themselves with this poison_, he thought with one hand still massaging Rose's foot, which rested once again on his knee.

He wondered, not for the first time, how far they would take this game tonight. This was the most they had ever acted on their flirtations, and he couldn't imagine turning back now. He could see it, he could taste it, he _needed_ it. And he knew she did too, which made him long for it all the more. He wanted to be the one to make her feel, to give her the release from the tension that he had been building inside of her for the past few weeks.

He hadn't done it intentionally, at least not at the start. He'd always known she had a crush on him, which he'd written off as something of a school-girl nature. But recently he noticed a change in the way she looked at him and touched him, a palpable hunger wafting off of her. How could he help but indulge in her change in affections, testing her resolve, stoking the flame within himself.

Rose was playing with one of the small gold studs in her ear while she waited for the Doctor to put the shot glass down and pick up his shrinking pile of cards. This game was certainly taking much longer than expected, but she had him in her sights. He lowered the glass and it clunked on the table a little louder than he anticipated, a side effect of the god-knows-how-many shots he had consumed so far. Rose laughed shrilly, her tongue jutting out between her teeth, because this was the most uncoordinated she had ever seen her Doctor.

"How dare you?" he yelled, in mock offense, as he grabbed a discarded lime wedge and threw it at her. She ducked it and, yanking her foot from his grasp, jumped out of her chair. As she was rounding the corner of the table toward him he tossed another piece of fruit, this one hitting her square in the nose. Some of the remaining juice squirted into her eye and she yelped, launching herself at him. His arms enveloped her, both of them giggling, until she remembered the stinging in her eye and clutched her hand to her face.

"I'm probably going to go blind now because of you, you bastard," she whined jokingly. Truth was, she couldn't feel the sting so much as the warmth of his arms around her, touching parts of her – innocent as they were – that he had never touched before.

"Let me see." He gently removed her hand and looked into her eyes, the closest he had ever seen them. In an instant he cataloged their colors, their vibrancy, their fire. The injured eye had a single tear streaming down from it and without thinking, he kissed it. His arm tightened around her waist and his other hand - still holding Rose's - clutched hers to his chest. This was his first taste of her, and it was her tear, and he had caused it. He lowered his head, brown knit, when Rose touched his face with her free hand, making him meet her eyes again.

"I was just kidding about the going blind thing. Besides," she said cheekily, "I've had worse things in my eye."

"Rose Tyler!" he gasped, again faux-scandalized. His hand around her waist tickled her ribs and she squirmed on his lap, giggling incessantly. He barely suppressed a low moan and released her, silently willing her to be still while simultaneously amazed at what she was capable of doing to him. He leaned forward and kissed the dip where her chest met her neck, which was conveniently at lip-level. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, reverberating from his lips down to his toes.

She released her hand from his to run her fingers along his jaw, finally feeling the course stubble he had grown for her. Her hands drew lazy lines on his cheek, back and forth, while they gazed at each other for a moment. They both realized this was the tipping point and, no doubt about it, they were going over. The Doctor tilted his face up toward Rose's and tightened his grasp around her, closing the small gap between them.

Rose gasped, her head swimming. This was everything she'd been longing for coming all at once. Just yesterday she would have been over the moon to simply sit in his lap, and now this. She saw him look up at her, his eyes hooded, and began to reciprocate his movement - then she stopped. Amidst her boozy thoughts, Rose had a moment of clarity. She put both hands on his shoulders and gently extricated herself from his grasp. Standing, wobbly from Magners and Time Lord sexiness, she made her way back to her chair and picked up her pile of cards.

They both knew that it was finally going to happen. The only question that remained was who is going to be in charge.


	3. Chapter 3

***Author's note: Aaaand the pay off. Rose and the Doctor finally finish their game of cards, and all that it entails. Thanks for the lovely reviews - hope you like how it ends!***

Chance has always been good to Rose. It was by chance that she found the Doctor. And, in a lot of ways, it was by chance that she was still alive. Sure, the Doctor often rescued her - and she rescued herself _and_ him on more than a few occasions - but she couldn't help but wonder if she had been a little _too_ lucky. She pushed that thought from her mind because, after all, traveling with the Doctor was the life she chose. She would continue to chance it until her chances were up.

If only her cards were up.

Rose glowered at her seven remaining cards and swore under her breath. _He was about to kiss you, you bloody idiot!_ she thought. _And you had to go jumping off of his lap, sit back in this blasted chair, and continue this ridiculous game just to prove a point?!_ _This had better be worth it._

She glanced across the table at the Doctor and he didn't seem to be fairing much better. He sat on the edge of his seat, muscles tight, slightly hunched over his pile of 45 cards. His face was in a grimace and she prayed that he wasn't upset with her. She had been feeling cheeky but now, another 20 minutes later, she regretted her restraint. _The things we could have done by now!_ She sighed loudly and put her head down on the table.

Not two seconds later did she feel his leg brush against hers. He ran his calf up and down hers, mimicking her motion from earlier, and she was reminded of why all of this - even the excruciating waiting - was worth it. She lifted her head to see his warm, albeit slightly tense, smile.

"Lightening round," he said, seriously. "Go."

They abandoned the drinking portion of the game and began to throw cards down in short succession, not even pausing to speak a word. He won a few hands, but she won more, and soon she had only one hand remaining. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer to whichever god presided over the nearest solar system. The Doctor, however, didn't look worried in the slightest. His eyes darkened as he raised his brow at her remaining card.

"Ready?" he asked, letting the subtext of that question hang in the air for a moment. "One, two, three."

He flipped over a 10. Rose, a queen.

She whooped loudly and leaped up for her chair, knocking it backward, throwing her arms straight up in victory. She beamed at him, a smile that he matched, before being distracted by the now exposed skin at her midriff. Upon standing Rose realized the effects of the alcohol were starting to wear off and worried she'd lose the audacity she'd felt earlier. Lowering her arms, she saw the solution sitting in a shot glass between them on the table. In one smooth motion she downed the liquid, feeling the tequila warm her all the way down before registering the bitter taste it left on her tongue.

Her face pinched and eyes closed in disgust, she leaned forward reaching across the table for one of his few remaining lime wedges. Finding the bowl blindly, she quickly popped the fruit into her mouth, biting down, sucking, and swallowing. Sighing in relief and discarding the rind, she slowly stood back up and gasped when she felt his hand on her waist. His other hand came from behind her, encircling her stomach where her skin had been revealed a moment ago. He spoke softly into her left ear, his voice husky and slightly slowed from alcohol.

"Rose, you won. You won your silly game that chooses the winner at random. Although, I don't believe in randomness. The universe is never random - she always inserts her will into every situation in one way or another..." he mused and stopped, realizing he was going off in a tangent. The Doctor loved a good tangent, but this was not the time. "Anyway, you won. And by TARDIS rules, I, the loser, am now at your disposal for one hour." His arm tightened around her waist and he took a step closer, his erection pressing into the small of her back. He sighed at the contact. It was not what he wanted - there were still far too many layers between them - but it felt so good to touch her like this.

"So," he whispered, lips brushing against her ear. "What do you want me to do?"

It was nearly too much for Rose and she couldn't tell if it was because of the tequila shot or the sensation of him leaning into her. His hot breath on her ear made it hard to think and she whined a little in frustration. Her hands, which were still resting on the wooden table, rose instinctively to cover his arms at her waist. For a fleeting moment she wished that he would turn her around and take control, leaving her to only react. But she quickly tossed that thought aside. No, things would be much more interesting with her in charge.

"Well," she said, drawing out the vowel in a most teasing manner, "let me think about that for a minute." She lengthened her spine, pushing herself back against him, and smiled when she heard his breath grow shallow in her ear. She didn't have her moment to think, however, because he took her left earlobe in his mouth, closing around her tiny gold stud. Rose's breath caught in her throat as she leaned her head back against him and he began to suck.

He couldn't help but further press his hips into her back as he rolled her earring against his tongue, tasting her soft, delicate skin. He sucked again, harder this time, and elicited a guttural sound from her that made him grow harder still, rocking his hips once more against her back. As much as Rose enjoyed the feel of him playing with the oh-so-sensitive bit of earlobe she needed him elsewhere, and she spun around in his grasp.

Now, face to face, she suddenly grew shy. Despite all that had happened between them tonight - the taunting, the tickling, the teasing, the moaning, the little Time Lord that stood at attention against her hip - the thought of actually kissing him seemed impossibly intimate. Risking a glance up at him, she immediately knew he felt the same, staring down at her with hesitant-yet-hungry eyes.

"Rose Tyler," he breathed, because it was more of a breath than a spoken word. "I..." but before he could continue she reached a finger up to his lips. "Don't," she whispered, moving her hand up his cheek, bristling his stubble, until her fingers came to rest behind his ear.

She had been waiting two long years to hear him say the words, but she didn't want him to make promises in the heat of the moment. Men, well, boys really, had done this with her before, each falling short of their vows not long after. Anyone could devote themselves right before receiving wast they most wanted. But what she needed, what she deserved, was a man who would promise her the world afterward.

Gently, the hand behind his ear pulled him downward toward her lips. Her other hand, resting on his chest, flexed in anticipation and he sighed as a result when his lips met hers. They both lingered there, enjoying the stillness, the softness, the perfectness of each other's kiss, before picking up a more sensual rhythm.

Her arms raised up to wrap around his neck and he ran his tongue across her bottom lip, tasting the sourness of the lime that had been there just minutes before. His needy tongue stroked again and she knew what he wanted, but she stubbornly kept her mouth closed, while occasionally nipping playfully at his lips. She had won the game, after all. She was in charge.

Finally her lips parted and she allowed his tongue to cross the threshold into her mouth. That tongue of hers, always taunting him at the corner of her smile, was finally entwined with his. He tried to take it all in, to catalog the sensations, but it was too much for even him to keep record. Her mouth tasted a magical combination of sweet and sour, delicate and decadent, and if he'd had his wits about him he probably would have drawn a metaphor between her taste and her personality, but he did not. He could only hold her tighter and move his tongue against hers.

He massaged her muscle with his for several moments before dragging it along the roof of her mouth, delighting in the sound it drew from her. His hands drifted down from the small of her back to her tight bum and he squeezed, lifting her to him, dreaming of the moments when fabric would no longer bind them.

Stepping forward, gently prompting Rose to move back, he positioned her against the table until she was sitting on it, cards and all. She opened her legs and he stepped between them, all the while bending down so as not to break their kiss. Her hands fingered the hemline of his tee-shirt and, never one for delayed gratification, she slipped her hands beneath the fabric and ran them up over his abdomen to his chest, finally feeling the muscles he had so cockily displayed earlier that night. He sighed into her mouth as her fingers ran over his sparse, soft hair and circled his nipples, then slinking down his sides before coming to rest on his lower back, pulling him closer still.

Growling, the Doctor pushed Rose back against the table until she was completely horizontal and climbed on top of her. A distant part of his brain thought he heard the sound of shattering glass, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Rose beneath him, raking her fingers from his neck to his back in the way he loved. He kissed the ear that he had previously suckled on and moved down to the skin just beneath it, placing a wet kiss there. His mouth and tongue then made its way down her glorious jaw line - how he loved that jaw - and continued down her neck to that spot where he had kissed her when she sat on his lap. He ran his tongue along the dip in her skin and she whimpered, bringing her legs up around his back, needing him closer.

Realizing they couldn't physically get any closer with all their clothes on, Rose quickly tried to pull some coherent thoughts together to sort out a solution.

"Stop!" she gasped, partly testing if she could still assert her own will and partly because she had once again remembered she had won the game. She was in charge. And she was going to get her hour's worth like he had done so many times before, though not quite like this.

He looked up from his place on her neck, his face questioning, like a puppy who didn't understand why he was having his favorite toy taken away. Rose couldn't help but laugh when she saw that look and he groaned in mock and real frustration, running his hands up and down her sides.

"Bedroom," she said, her eyes the darkest he had ever seen them. "Now."

Rose kept her legs locked around the Doctor's waist and brought her hands up around his neck as he lifted them both from the table in one swift movement. He made their way from the kitchen down the excruciatingly long hallway to his bedroom, pausing every now and then to push her up against the wall for a particularly heated kiss. Finally entering the room, he gently deposited Rose on the bed and she positioned herself kneeling on the mattress so she could kiss him as he stood before her.

She had never been in his room before and, as curious as she was, decided she would have to take it all in later on. There were more important tasks at hand.

"And why is your shirt still on?" she asked cheekily, breaking away from their embrace. He smirked and slowly removed the fabric, revealing his slim-yet-muscular frame. She couldn't resist running her hands over his chest once more before speaking into his neck. "My shirt's still on too, you know."

He chuckled darkly, bringing his hand down from their place on her neck and dragging them slowly down her chest, grazing her breasts, over her stomach, until finally they reached the bottom of her tee. She was still shivering from that movement when he lifted the shirt off her, raising her arms straight up. Dropping the shirt, he held her hands in the air and then slowly ran ins fingers down her forearms, along her triceps, dipping playfully in her armpits before coming to rest at the side fabric of her lacy pink and black bra. Her arms were still in the air when he bent down to kiss the tops of her breasts, the lace of the bra tickling his cheek.

Rose finally brought her arms down to his shoulders and pushed him up gently. She took his hand in hers and brought his middle finger into her mouth, closing around it, and licked and sucked as she slowly pulled her mouth free. _So she had noticed me gawking when she licked the lime juice from her fingers, _he thought, heatedly. _My clever Rose._

She then leaned forward placing wet kisses on his chest while she made quick work of his belt, pulling his trousers and boxers down in one go. He stepped out of them, quickly discarding his trainers, and let her take him in. Rose had been to the future and to the past, she had seen planets with auburn skies and violet seas, she had traveled through the stars, and he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Forgetting the game, forgetting everything, she reached for him and held him gently at the base and she slowly pulled upward, reaching the tip, and returning her hand to where it started. He leaned his head back, whispering something in a language the TARDIS chose not to translate. Sitting down on her heels Rose took him in her mouth and heard him gasp and she ran her tongue along his tip and began to work her way downward. She didn't make it far, though, because he gently stepped back extricating himself from her.

"Tonight is all about you, Rose," he said, looking down at her hungrily. "You won, after all. The TARDIS won't like it if we don't abide by her rules."

Truth be told, he didn't know how long he could have lasted with her mouth on him like that. In his 900-odd years no one had ever made him feel like this before, and he wanted to make tonight count.

Rose had risen back up into a kneeing position and the Doctor, with a gleam in his eye, skillfully grabbed behind her knees and pulled, making her flop down onto the mattress on her back. She giggled as he wrestled her tight jeans off her and climbed on top of her once again, smiling at the sight of her scant - and mismatched - purple knickers. After a long, heated kiss he whispered in her ear, "What should I do now?"

"Mmm I think my bra is in the way," she smirked. She arched her back so that he could reach the clasp, which he quickly undid before softly moving the straps down off her shoulders and discarding the piece completely. He took in her perfectness for a moment. Her whole body was soft and firm in all the right places and her breasts were no different, sitting pertly on her chest, her nipples already half erect from arousal. He growled at the sight and ran his thumbs over them, stroking then circling, and watched them grow harder still under his touch.

He couldn't resist any longer and took her left nipple in his mouth running his tongue over it every which way before giving it a strong suck. She cried out and arched into him, grasping at the back of his neck. He didn't know it was possible, but upon hearing her make such a breathtaking sound he grew even harder against her thigh.

Knowing neither of them could wait much longer he began to focus his efforts. While his mouth gave the same treatment to her right breast, he ran a hand down her side and thigh until it reached her knee. He then moved his fingers up the inside of her thigh, sliding tauntingly close to where she wanted him to touch her most, before his hand jumped to the inside of her other thigh and followed the same path. Rose whined in frustration.

Finally, he ran a finger over her impressively wet knickers, starting back toward her bum and dragging it achingly forward until it just brushed her clit beneath the fabric. She moaned and bucked against him.

"Doctor," she gasped. "I need you inside me."

"Not yet," he said into her skin as he kissed his way down her torso, tongue stroking as he went. With her last coherent thought, Rose reminded herself to tell him off for disobeying his own sodding rules.

He ran his tongue along the top edge of her knickers and heard her breath hitch in her throat. Taking the purple fabric in his teeth he gently pulled the pants off her - something he'd always fantasized about doing - and let his hand finish the job, discarding the small piece of fabric on the floor. He looked down at what he'd just unwrapped. She was all bare except for a thin strip of hair down the center, and he laughed inwardly remembering that humans call this particular style a "landing strip." _Those humans really do get it right sometimes_, he thought.

He placed a few sloppy kisses on the inside of her thigh, his stubble feeling brilliant on her skin, before running his tongue along her slit. He couldn't believe the taste of her, all sweetness and sourness like her mouth but with an added note of desire. He ran his tongue down her again and used his hands to spread her quivering legs apart further. Now that she was fully opened to him he descended on her clit, stroking softly at first and then more firmly. He eased his fingers inside her, first two then three, and angled them toward that patch of flesh that felt unlike the rest of her walls.

Rose reached down, tangling her hands in his wonderful, wild, thick hair, and came harder and more loudly than she ever had before. If space had the ability to carry sound, her cry would have traveled into the void. Working her until he was sure she was done, the Doctor climbed back up her body and gave her a heated kiss, wanting her to taste herself and appreciate it as he had. The immense relief she had felt just moments ago began to fall away as her desire for this man, this Time Lord, began to build again.

"I said," she growled at him jokingly, punctuating each word. "That I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear. In an instant he was positioned at her entrance and began to push inside, Rose throwing her head back in anticipation. Then he paused.

"Your hour is nearly up," he teased, struggling to keep control himself. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do."

Leaning up toward his ear she whispered, "Fuck me."

Her words rippled through him like fire and he slowly glided into her, giving her time to adjust to his size, while keeping his eyes on her the whole time. He loved how she gasped and how her mouth formed an "O" every time he sunk deeper. When he was all the way inside of her he paused and looked at her adoringly, brushing some stray hair to the side of her face. He knew she didn't want him to say it yet so he said it all with a look. And he felt it coming back from her. _So this is what peace feels like._

Unable to stay still any longer he slowly withdrew from her, nearly completely, before driving back in again. She whimpered, fisting at the sheets above her head. He did everything in his power to keep his instincts at bay, to not thrust to quickly or too hard, to give her at least one more release. Luckily Rose seemed to enjoy his fast pace, her hips meeting his at every move. She clawed at any part of him she could reach, her legs encircling his back once again in an effort to allow him to drive deeper.

Quickening his pace, he reached down between them and roughly stroked her clit. She began to climax slowly, her breath growing staggered, moans catching at the back of her throat, and then, suddenly, nails digging into his back she cried out his name. It sounded even more amazing to him than the first time she came.

The sensation of her orgasm drove him over the edge, too, and he moaned in her ear, pumping everything into her, all the while whispering _Rose. Oh, Rose_. He stayed on top of her a while as they caught their breath, smiling at each other in lazy bliss.

Eventually he rolled off of her and they lay on their sides facing each other, his arms around her. She wove one of her legs though his, silently noting that there was no fabric in the way this time.

"So did this teach you to let me choose the card game more often?" she said when she could speak again, the question punctuated with an arched brown and a flash of tongue between her teeth.

"Oh most definitely," he replied, laughing. "I'm going to let you choose every game until the end of time."

Her expression changed as the mention of time brought up a memory of something he'd once said to her. She could spend the rest of her life with him, but he couldn't spend the rest of his with her.

Sensing her thoughts, the Doctor stroked her face.

"There's more out there than time and space, you know. Much, much more. Some things are so strong they exist forever."

He kissed her neck, her ear, her mouth.

"Rose Tyler, I love you."

Holding his adoring gaze, Rose said quietly, "And I love you too, but you've always known that."

After a few moments of enchanted silence in each other's arms, Rose propped herself up on her elbow to better see the clock on the Doctor's nightstand. "It looks like I still have 7 minutes remaining in my victory hour," she said, that cheeky look spreading across her face. "Just enough time for you to clean up the kitchen."

He pulled her elbow out from under her and pounced on her, tickling as punishment for such a suggestion. In the next seven minutes, and then some, he did everything but.


End file.
